


in my arms is where you ought to be

by manusinistra



Category: LOONA (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, cameos by most of them, kind of a sorority au, ot12 live together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-07 14:49:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17962604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manusinistra/pseuds/manusinistra
Summary: Some girls don't do their share of the chores. Haseul tries to fix it, and Yves keeps surprising her.





	1. I

Haseul sits at the kitchen table, up earlier than usual because she has an essay due today and last night all she could manage for a conclusion was “I want to sleep.”

For that reason, she’s around to see Lip come down the stairs at 6, pull a yogurt out of the fridge, and stand there glaring at the chore chart on the door as if it has personally wronged her. 

“Do you do this every morning? Or just when you have an audience.”

“They never clean!”

Haseul doesn’t have to ask who “they” are. The BBC house is split into three floors, and each level has its own personality and set of traditions. Floor three – Eden – has a time-honored tradition of not doing their share of the chores. 

“You say that like it’s news.”

“But, they should clean.”

“I know.”

“Does it really not bother you? That they never contribute anything?”

“Well, Yves and Chuu give an impressively homoerotic karaoke performance. That’s something.”

Haseul tries to keep writing, but she can feel Lip’s frown from across the room. She sighs, closing her computer. This paragraph was finally starting to cooperate, but she’s not going to finish it with Lip over there radiating righteous indignation. 

“Of course it bothers me,” Haseul says, more serious now. “I’m the one that ends up doing their cleaning because you’re too busy grumbling about it.”

“So why don’t you talk to them? They don’t listen to me. The last time I tried Chuu pinched my cheek and told me I’m cute when I’m angry.”

Haseul snorts. She’s seen that happen, and the way Lip blushes and runs away will forever be funny. 

“Aside from the fact that I’m not terrified of pretty girls, why do you think I’d do any better?”

“You’re older, and you’re the unofficial house leader. Plus with that haircut you have, like, an aura of authority.”

“You give the weirdest compliments.” Lip shoots her a sarcastic finger heart, and then goes back to glaring at the fridge. “Ok, ok. If I say I’ll try will you leave and let me write this paper?”

“I’ll even distract Yeojin for you when she wakes up.”

“Deal.”

;;

Haseul finishes the essay, barely. 

After she turns it in, she walks back to the house pondering how to approach the Eden-doesn’t-clean problem. With any of the other girls, Haseul would just yell for a while about the importance of house unity and doing your share. She’s not sure that will work with the third floor, though – they moved in a year after everyone else, and there’s still some residual distance. 

Not that she doesn't love them anyway. Chuu is impossible not to adore, and Gowon and Olivia have hilariously intense Mario Kart battles in the common room. Sometimes Haseul makes popcorn and watches – it’s better than a movie. 

And Yves, well. Yves is nice.

Is that the best you can do, Haseul thinks to herself.

She knows how other people would describe Yves. The gag genius (Heejin), the best smile (Lip), the quickest with words (Chuu). Yves is certainly funny when the full group is together, but Haseul never knows what to do with her when they're having a one-on-one conversation. They’ll be talking, and the moment it goes beyond the most basic “so how was your day” Yves will make an excuse and wander off.

Which is fine. She’s not obligated to talk to Haseul. Haseul doesn’t need to know everyone’s deep, dark secrets. Still, it’s a little weird, how closed off Yves is with her despite being an otherwise sociable person. 

And it makes this harder, because Yves is the person she needs to talk to. The Eden girls are a handful, and Yves is the only one who can more or less keep them in line.

When Haseul gets home, she trudges up the stairs, anticipating awkwardness. 

The top floor is a big loft, sectioned into two adjoining spaces. Yves and Chuu share one, Gowon and Olivia the other. Yves is the only one there, spread out on her bed with a bunch of books.

“Hey,” Haseul says.

Yves looks up, surprise clear in her elegant features. Haseul knows that she’s pretty enough, but sometimes she wonders what it would be like to move through the world with a face like that. 

“Hey,” Yves says. “What brings you up here?”

“Can’t I just say hi?”

“You can, but you almost never make it past the second floor. What’s up?”

Haseul sits on Yves’ desk chair, immediately regretting it because now Yves is taller than her. (Yves is always taller than her, but she shouldn’t get to keep the advantage sitting down.)

“You know,” Haseul starts. “It’s cleaner than I would’ve guessed up here.”

“Check out Gowon’s stash of moldy half-eaten food before you commit to that. But, yeah. Chuu and I try to be civilized human beings.”

“Hmm. So you do know how to clean.”

“Ah, I see.” Yves smiles knowingly. “Lip is at it again.”

“She is,” Haseul agrees. “But I’m not just here for her. I’m getting tired of doing your dishes every weekend.”

Yves’ smile breaks, her face twisting with what seems to be genuine concern. Interesting. 

“Shit, Haseul, I’m sorry. I didn't realize you were the one cleaning up after us. Why didn’t you say something?”

“You guys are a little…difficult. To get through to.”

“Well, we’ll be less difficult now. At least with the cleaning.”

Yves’ smile returns, and Haseul is struck by how big and white it is. She doesn’t really trust this – the smile or the promise – but when Yves sticks out her hand Haseul shakes it.

She can tell Lip she tried, if nothing else. 

;;

The next morning, Haseul wakes up to pounding on her door. She squints at her phone: it’s 6:30AM, and she only has afternoon classes today. God help whoever is forcing her into an early morning if there’s not a call-the-fire-department level emergency out there. 

Lip is wide eyed and frantic when she opens the door.

“You have to see this,” she whisper-shouts.

Haseul is dragged to the kitchen in her pajamas, blinking against the early morning light. And then she’s blinking for a different reason: not only is the mountain of dishes gone from the sink, but every surface in the kitchen is gleaming. Stove, countertops, and appliances all sparkle at her. The tiled floor has gone from gray to light purple; Haseul didn’t even know it was supposed to be that color. 

“How,” is all she gets out.

“Did you talk to them?”

“I talked to Yves, yeah.”

“What did you say?”

“I just asked her to do the cleaning.”

“Really,” Lip says, and there’s something weird happening in her voice. Haseul isn’t awake enough to try to decipher it. “Well. It worked.”

Haseul crouches down, peering under the fridge. Someone has even cleaned there. What on earth. 

Back in bed, Haseul scrolls through her messages until she finds Yves. Their last exchange is from two months ago, when Yves’ car was in the shop and she asked Haseul for a ride to Target. 

“Thanks for cleaning the kitchen,” Haseul types out. When she wakes up two hours later, she has a smiling emoji in reply. 

;;

The kitchen doesn’t stay spotless, but over the next few weeks the dishes keep getting done. 

Haseul never actually witnesses the cleaning, and she half suspects the third floor paid someone off to do it. Jinsoul, maybe, who is perennially broke and susceptible to scheming. Still, Haseul isn’t the one doing extra chores, so she’s happy enough.

She finds out the truth one quiet Friday when she’s settled at the kitchen table for a night of homework. Most of the girls have plans elsewhere, and Haseul is hoping she can crank out another essay in the relative peace (there are some regrets about taking this lit class).

She’s nearing the word limit but not at all confident that her sentences make sense when Yves appears, wearing a baggy hoodie over workout clothes. Her hood is up and she has earbuds in, and she’s too focused on the sink to notice Haseul in the corner of the room. 

From her vantage point, Haseul can see the disgust painted all over Yves, who approaches the dishes with the air of someone about to enter a radioactive wasteland. She puts on gloves, fills the sink with soap and water. Stretches a wary hand into the dirty dishes. 

It’s slow, but the dishes get done. Haseul watches the pile grow smaller and smaller until Yves gets stuck on two bowls glued together by a gloopy, reddish sludge.

“Oh ew,” she says, trying to pull them apart. 

Her face twists, and she looks so earnestly unhappy about such a small thing that Haseul laughs loud enough to pierce Yves’ shield of music. 

Yves whips her head around, meeting Haseul’s gaze. She drops both of the bowls in her surprise and water splashes up, taking some of the sludge with it. Depositing it on Yves’ chin. 

Yves full on shrieks then cuts herself off, torn between embarrassment and horror. 

“Haseul,” she says in a very small voice. “Can you get this off my face. Please.”

Haseul is already moving, crossing the room and reaching for a towel. Yves has gone pale and stiff; her eyes are closed as if she’s trying to will this whole scene out of existence. 

Haseul reaches up to wipe her face – Yves really is tall – and does a more thorough job than is probably necessary. She feels bad, but she’s also kind of enjoying this, seeing confident, charming Yves so far out of her element. 

When Yves opens her eyes, she stares down at the half-done dishes with a world of regret. Haseul softens.

“I can get the rest of them,” she says.

“You don’t have to do that. You’ve done more than your share for long enough.”

“It’s ok.”

“But—”

“Really. There’s not much left, and to be honest you look like you’re going to faint if you try to do them.”

“Ok. Thank you. Can I pay you back somehow?”

“Not unless you can fix my disaster of an essay.”

Haseul is joking, but when she’s done with the dishes she finds Yves frowning at her laptop in concentration.

“Um. Yves?”

“It’s not a disaster,” Yves says, eyes still on the screen. “You just need to reorganize things and be more consistent with your argument.”

She proceeds to give a thorough diagnosis of the essay’s shortcomings and offer several strategies for fixing it. Haseul is left blinking at her.

“How did you do that?”

“Oh, lit is one of my majors and I tutor at the writing center.” 

Huh. Haseul always figured Yves did something related to performance, with how good at dancing and music she is.

“Don’t feel obligated to listen to me,” Yves says, and Haseul realizes she’s been silent for too long. 

“No,” Haseul says, shaking herself out of it and sitting down next to Yves. “I appreciate the help. What were you saying about rearranging the sections?”

“I think it would flow better if you put this at the beginning,” Yves starts. 

An hour later, Haseul has a solid essay and a dawning awareness of just how little she knows about Yves. 

;;

Haseul gets an A on that paper, ‘much improved’ scribbled across the top. 

Going for celebratory boba, she finds herself wondering about Yves’ favorite drink. Haseul messages Chuu to ask, and when Chuu responds right away it feels like a sign that she might as well make the gesture. She leaves the drink in the house fridge, making space at the front so that it won’t be missed. 

“To Yves,” she writes on a sticky note. “For the essay consult.”

A few days later she finds her favorite pastry tucked in front of the milk.

“To Haseul,” the note says. “For saving me from the dishes.”

;;

The whole house goes out dancing the weekend after midterms. 

Haseul isn’t initially planning to go – she had three tests in two days and all she wants to do now is lay somewhere – but Heejin and Vivi gang up on her.

“You’ll have fun once you're there,” Heejin says. 

“And you don't have enough fun anymore,” Vivi adds.

Haseul rolls her eyes, but she changes into jeans and a tight tank top. 

Once they get to the club, Haseul does have fun. Vivi buys a round, and Jinsoul buys a second, and then everyone piles onto the dance floor. After a few songs most of the girls clear out, off to flirt or drink or flirt in pursuit of free drinks. 

Haseul and Vivi keep dancing. Haseul always enjoys dancing with Vivi, because she takes exactly zero of the things Haseul does seriously. For example, when Haseul drops down all the way to the floor and uses Vivi as a stripper pole on the way back up, Vivi only raises an eyebrow. Which makes Haseul want to find a way to break her composure, so she bends over and twerks in Vivi’s face.

“Oh my god,” Vivi says, laughing. “Haseul, stop that, you’re scaring the children.” 

Haseul follows her line of sight to Lip and Chuu, who are hiding their faces in their hands, fingers spread just enough so that they can still see. Haseul waves, and Chuu forgets her embarrassment to wave back brightly.

Theirs isn’t the only attention Haseul has attracted, and when Vivi goes to the bar two guys slot into the space she leaves behind.

“Why don’t you try that move on me,” one of them says.

“That’s ok.” 

Haseul goes to leave, but a new song comes on and the dance floor fills, her escape route evaporating into a sea of bodies.

The guys move closer. Haseul isn’t scared exactly, but she’s seen enough fun nights gone wrong to be way more on guard than she was a minute ago. 

“I’m going to leave now,” she says, voice loud and firm.

As the guys object, an arm wraps around Haseul’s waist. Yves appears at her side, emanating ‘don’t fuck with us.’ Haseul is both grateful and annoyed that it works: the guys immediately back off in the face of Yves’ height and glare and leather jacket. 

“Hey,” Yves says once they’re gone, letting go of Haseul and retreating a step. “Vivi said you might want some company.”

“Does that mean you’re here to dance with me?”

“If you want.”

Yves’ smile is flirty but generic, the kind she’s probably given a hundred girls. It fades into bewilderment as Haseul takes a step forward, slinking into Yves’ personal space. Haseul likes that reaction better – it feels realer, less cultivated.

“Are you sure you can handle that,” Haseul says.

“Excuse you, I’m on the dance team.”

“You can dance for an audience, but I don’t know. You might suck one-on-one.”

Something sparks in Yves’ eyes, and Haseul has a moment to wonder if teasing was the wrong choice before she’s pulled tight against Yves, her back to Yves’ front. They’ve never been this close before, and the sudden intimacy sends a shock tingling through Haseul. 

“Is this ok,” Yves says, quiet and close in Haseul’s ear. 

Her hands are light on Haseul’s hips, hesitating after that display of boldness. Haseul covers them with her own, pressing down. Yves takes the hint: her touch solidifies, fingers digging into the fabric of Haseul’s jeans. Haseul watches them flex, her tingles morphing into something warmer. 

Yves starts moving to the beat, and ok, Haseul thinks. She is good at this. 

They dance together for a long time. It should get boring – this is much less animated and crazy than what Haseul does with Vivi, which is usually her favorite kind of dancing. 

But Haseul doesn’t get bored. She’s the opposite of bored, really. She relishes in the smooth sway of Yves’ body against her, the whisper of Yves’ breath at her ear as she sings along. Haseul feels like she’s going liquid, melting into Yves. 

Yves’ hands gradually get bolder. One toys with the hem of Haseul’s shirt and then slides under, tracing the line where her jeans give way to skin. The other slips into Haseul’s front pocket, not all the way but enough for Haseul to take a sharp breath at how close to certain places Yves is getting. At how much Haseul wants Yves to be touching her, there and everywhere. 

Haseul reaches up to thread her own hand into Yves’ hair, pulling a little. 

“Fuck,” Yves says, voice thick. 

When Haseul can’t stand it anymore – when she just wants something to happen – she spins around to face Yves. They’re both breathing heavy, faces close together. Haseul catches Yves’ gaze flicker down to her lips. 

Then Yves pulls back, looking anywhere but at Haseul. 

“Do you need a drink? I need a drink. Let’s go get drinks.”

She’s gone before Haseul has finished processing the words, disappearing into a booth with Chuu for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This started as a drabble inspired by Haseul saying yyxy is difficult in that one vlive and then it just sort of. Spiraled. 
> 
> The second half is mostly written, but I wanted to see if anyone would actually read this (since yveseul isn't the most popular) before I spent too much time fixing it up.


	2. II

The next afternoon, Haseul finds most of her housemates in the common room with a truly absurd amount of food. It had to come from at least three different restaurants, and Haseul would usually scold them for the excess but right now she’s too distracted to bother.

Yves is absent, she notes, to mixed relief and disappointment. So is Chuu. The two of them are probably off somewhere together, and Haseul has always found their closeness cute – a study in contrasts – but today it annoys her in a way she’s trying hard not to think about. Because that would mean thinking about last night and what it means, and that’s a lot before food on a Sunday.

“Want some?” Hyunjin asks, brandishing a container of grilled meat at her.

Haseul takes some of it (and some of the chicken, and some of the pizza) and makes space for herself on the couch between Lip and Heejin.

“So,” Vivi says, to Haseul but loud enough that everyone hears. “You and Yves looked friendly last night.”

“That’s one word for it,” Lip snickers.

“Be careful,” Haseul says. “I know many things about both of you.”

“Did you and Yves hang out after we left?” Choerry asks, blessedly clueless. The underclassmen caught the bus home too early to witness things, and Haseul is grateful because a full house interrogation is only fun if you’re not on the receiving end. 

“Something like that.”

Haseul takes a big bite before anyone can ask more questions, and at that moment Yves comes into the room. Her hair is up in a bun and her face is free of makeup, which makes her look younger and softer than usual. She catches Haseul looking, and her expression goes so perfectly blank that Haseul is impressed amid her exasperation. Yves doesn’t break eye-contact, though, which is something. 

Also something: Haseul would like to kiss her. That is apparently going to keep happening. The desire hums through her, low but insistent, like a buzz at the edge of her hearing. 

Yves stands there staring longer than is reasonable. Out of the corner of her eye, Haseul catches everyone in the room watching them watch each other. 

“How is your day going today?” Yves eventually says, and it comes out more stilted and formal than Haseul has ever heard her. The queen of wordplay, reduced to this.

Her awkwardness infects Haseul, who says haltingly:

“My day is good, and yours?”

“Also good,” Yves says.

“Good,” Haseul echoes.

“That’s…good.” 

Yves sounds defeated now, and all eyes bounce between them as they pass that one useless word back and forth. Like a tennis match, but infinitely more embarrassing.

Haseul gives up on replying, because if she opens her mouth all that will come out is another “good.” She looks at the floor, wishing it would open up and swallow her, and soon footsteps signal Yves’ departure.

“What did you do to her?” Gowon says once she’s gone. “Yves didn’t even eat!”

“I think it’s what she didn’t do.” Vivi smirks. “Lack of follow through.”

“I’m not the one who didn’t follow through,” Haseul bites out, and, ok, that’s maybe not going to help the situation. 

“Really though, what’s going on?” Olivia says. 

Haseul looks to Lip for help – Vivi is enjoying this way too much to be useful, and Jinsoul is just squinting in confusion. Lip schools her face into innocence, though.

“I’d like to hear an answer to that,” she says. 

I will remember this betrayal, Haseul thinks, trying to come up with a thing to say to all the eyes boring into her. She’s not shy, but she also doesn’t know how to explain something she herself hasn’t figured out. 

She gets a reprieve from an unexpected ally.

“Meow, meow,” Hyunjin says. 

Heejin passes her the kimchi, which is apparently what she wanted. Collective attention shifts to the two of them and this new phenomenon in need of explanation.

“What,” Heejin says. “Did you guys not get that? It’s all in the intonation.”

;;

After food, Haseul retreats to her room.

She flops onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Avoiding last night clearly isn’t working, so she lets the memories wash over her: Yves’ hands on her, Yves’ face within kissing distance. Yves running away when Haseul was about to close it.

Haseul sighs, pulling the covers over her head. This isn’t bad, exactly, but it is complicated. Last night happened fast, and before she deals with Yves – or the rest of the house, meddling gossipers all – she should try to untangle what she wants. 

The first relevant point: Haseul is attracted to Yves. 

This is not a shocking discovery. Yves is attractive, and everyone knows it. But Haseul never thought Yves’ attractiveness would matter to her: she found Yves pretty in the distant, uninvolved way that you find an actress in a drama pretty. Nice to look at, sure, but not a prospect worth thinking about.

After last night, there’s a different texture to things. If Yves hadn’t run, Haseul would have done her best to bring Yves back to this room. That’s a little more than thinking “she’s pretty” in passing. 

But does she actually like Yves, or were they just caught up in a moment? Haseul is tempted to say the latter – cocky playgirl isn’t her usual type, and it would make life easier if they stayed semi-friendly acquaintances who cohabitate. If Haseul is honest with herself, though, they’ve been getting closer all semester. More than that, Haseul has been enjoying unlocking new levels in Yves, getting to see her be smart and thoughtful and unexpectedly goofy. The thought of it stopping now feels bad – Haseul doesn’t want to go back to stunted, two-sentence conversations.

So, what does she want? Just as important, would Yves let her have it?

;;

Haseul attempts to do homework for an hour before giving in and messaging Yves. 

_Can we talk_ , she writes. _I’m in my room._

There’s a knock on her door five minutes later. Yves looks around with interest when Haseul lets her in, and Haseul realizes that Yves has never been in her space before. She feels nervous, heartrate increasing as she watches Yves take in her books and posters and amble over to sit on her bed. 

Haseul doesn’t have much of a plan beyond ‘talk without 10 witnesses.’ With Yves sitting there expectantly, she wishes she’d come up with a few more details. Still, she always tells the girls to communicate when they have problems (is that what this is? is Yves a problem?) so that’s what she’ll do. 

Haseul sits beside Yves, acutely aware of the three inches of comforter separating them. 

“So, this morning was awkward.”

“Yeah, you think?” Yves’ voice comes out snarky, borderline mean. But then she sighs, covering her face with her hands. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. I’m just bad at talking about real things.”

“We don’t have to do this, if you don’t want to.” 

“No, we should. This is important, I want us to be good. Thanks for texting, by the way. I was staring at my phone trying to figure out what to say to you.”

Yves goes pink as she says that, like she just admitted more than she meant to. It charms Haseul, seeing Yves act as unsettled as she feels. It also grounds her in the task at hand. 

“Let’s start easy,” Haseul says. “How are you feeling physically? Any hangover?” 

“I’m ok. I wasn’t drunk last night.”

“I wasn’t, either.”

Yves looks surprised. 

“I figured you were.”

“Is that why you stopped?”

“Partly. I didn’t want you to regret anything in the morning.”

She says that like she’s been someone’s regret, and it makes Haseul wonder about Yves’ history, the things her flirtatiousness covers over. 

“That’s sweet,” Haseul says.

“Also unnecessary, it sounds like.”

“I still appreciate it.” Haseul takes a breath – here’s the turning point. She could make an excuse, say it’s good nothing happened. Or, door number two: “I’m sad I didn’t get to kiss you, though.” 

Yves’ mouth drops open, and Haseul takes a moment to relish in having shocked her. Then her expression changes and she turns toward Haseul, moving her hand so that she can brush her pinky slowly, purposefully over Haseul’s. It’s a small, testing kind of contact, but Haseul feels it ripple through her.

“We could fix that,” Yves says. 

“You wouldn’t regret it?” Haseul checks. 

“Not at all. I spent all day thinking about this.”

“I did, too.”

“So you think I’m hot, huh.”

Yves preens, flipping her long hair back over her shoulder. Haseul swats at her leg. 

“That would mean you also think I’m hot.”

“I do,” Yves says. “You’re beautiful, Haseul.”

Haseul is rarely without words but they desert her now, at the sincere conviction in Yves’ voice. So, instead of speaking, she leans over and up until she reaches Yves’ lips. 

If the talking was hard, there’s an easy chemistry to their kiss. Haseul loses confidence the second after initiating it, but as she starts to pull back Yves presses forward, moving a hand to cup Haseul’s jaw. Yves’ lips are soft but the pressure is firm – this, too, is a thing she’s good at. 

Heat rises in Haseul as they settle into a rhythm, and it quickly becomes the kind of kiss that’s leading somewhere. Haseul opens her mouth, and the first brush of Yves’ tongue makes her want more: more contact, more force, a better angle to feel Yves against her. 

“Scoot back,” she says, breaking away. Yves does, without protest or question, and it’s gratifying to know that Yves wants her enough to actually follow directions. When Yves is fully on the bed, Haseul climbs up to straddle her, sitting on Yves’ thighs and interlocking her hands behind Yves’ neck.

Yves blinks, looking up at the satisfied grin on Haseul’s face. 

“You surprise me sometimes,” Yves says. 

“Is that a complaint?”

“The exact opposite.”

Yves slides her hands under Haseul’s shirt, tracing up her spine. Haseul bites her lip, squirming because it’s suddenly hard to sit still. 

Yves uses her nails on the way back down, and that makes Haseul gasp, head falling forward to rest on Yves’ shoulder. Yves takes the opportunity to bite her ear, then whispers, “you’re wearing too many clothes.”

;;

Lying in bed afterward, Haseul is happy and spent. Yves is a good workout, and Haseul is about to tell her as much when she rolls over to find Yves sitting at the edge of the bed, pulling on her shirt.

“Don’t worry,” she says. “I’ll be out of here soon.”

Haseul frowns. 

“You don’t have to go. Of course you can if you want, but I was just going to watch something on Netflix. And you could watch with me, if you don’t need to be doing something.”

Yves pauses, her pants halfway up one leg. 

“Really?”

“Is it that surprising?”

“Kind of, yeah.”

“What, do people really kick you out right after you have sex with them?”

“I just thought you’d want me gone as soon as possible.” Yves shrugs. “Sometimes it seems like you tolerate me for the sake of our friends.”

“Oh,” Haseul says. That was true at one point, but it hasn’t been for a while. Especially not now, after what they’ve just done, and the fragility in Yves’ expression tugs at her heart. “We haven’t hung out that much, but if you’re game I’d like to.”

She meant the offer the first time, but now she wants Yves to stay with sudden, surprising intensity. 

“Ok,” Yves says, a tentative smile curling her lips. “I’d like that too.”

Yves gets back in bed, awkward now that they’re outside the bounds of purely physical intimacy. Haseul rolls her eyes and pulls Yves down beside her. It takes them a while to get comfortable, but eventually Haseul ends up on her back with Yves curled into her shoulder, both watching the computer on Haseul’s lap. Yves doesn’t take up much space with her arms and legs folded, and Haseul marvels at how such a long person can get so small. 

After a few episodes Yves glances at the clock. She sighs, uncurling and rolling out her shoulders. 

“I should go deal with homework now, for real.”

“I probably should too.”

Haseul walks Yves to the door, and there’s a moment when they both pause and Haseul thinks about kissing her goodbye. But she already asked Yves to stay, and two gestures with implications seems like too many. 

“Let me know if you want to do that again,” Haseul says instead.

;;

The next Friday, Haseul is putting on eyeliner when Yves messages her. 

_You busy?_ it says.

Haseul had vague plans to go to a movie, but it’s not one she really wants to see and this is a friend who bails on her half the time. Canceling would be karmic justice, really. 

_Nope,_ she replies. _Come over?_

_See you in 10._

Haseul grins at her phone, excitement building. She wasn’t sure whether this would happen again, but it’s been hard to keep her mind from wandering to Yves and her lips and her hands. 

Yves must come from dance practice, because when she gets there she’s in a crop top and track pants, hair tucked under a black baseball cap. It’s a really good look, and Haseul is reaching for her before she’s even across the threshold, tracing Yves’ exposed stomach with eager hands. 

The pattern repeats over the next few weeks: one of them messages the other, they hook up in Haseul’s room, and then they hang out for a while watching something. Haseul gets to know Yves – learns to recognize her favorite lipstick by taste, learns that she kisses differently depending on whether she’s amped up from dancing or exhausted by school or worried about one of the other Eden girls. 

Yves gets to know her too, though Haseul doesn’t realize it until she comes by after Haseul has just had a terrible fight with her mom. (It started with, “Aren’t you growing your hair out? I know you think it looks good but it’s really just not feminine when it’s that short.”)

Yves takes one look at Haseul and curls around her. Haseul presses her face into Yves’ neck, taking comfort from the now-familiar skin. 

“Thanks,” she says ten minutes later, when she feels recovered enough to stop hiding in Yves’ hair.

“No worries,” Yves says. “You had your sad look.”

“I did?”

“Mhm. It’s gone now though, so good job me.”

“Is there anything you can’t turn into a compliment for yourself?”

“Haven’t found it yet.” Yves winks, and Haseul laughs despite herself. “Seriously though, do you want to talk about whatever caused that?”

Haseul prefers solving other people’s problems to talking about her own, but Yves is here and just held her through that, so it’s only fair to let her know. 

“I had a fight with my mom. A stupid thing set it off, but then we both got mean and I don’t know. I feel like I don’t know how to talk to her these days.”

Yves strokes Haseul’s hair. 

“Family is hard,” she says, and Haseul pulls back enough to peer at her face. She never reveals much about herself so Haseul assumes she’ll stop there, but Yves bites her lip and continues. “Mine doesn’t want me to go into dancing. They say it’s not stable enough as a career, and they’re not wrong. But.”

“But it’s what you want to do.”

“Yeah. So, I have two and a half majors and one more semester to figure it out.”

‘You will,” Haseul says, wrapping her arms around Yves. “And if it ever helps to talk, I’m around.”

;;

Yves keeps coming over, and each time she stays a little longer.

One weekend it gets to be 3AM and she’s still in Haseul’s room, failing at keeping her eyes open but stubbornly insisting that she’s not tired. Haseul is yawning too, so she turns off the light and pulls the covers up over them both. Yves cuddles into her from behind, resting an arm across her stomach. Haseul falls asleep to the thought of how nice it is, having Yves’ warmth at her back at the end of the day. 

When she wakes up, Yves is trying to extricate herself from the bed, gray morning light streaming in through the window. 

“Hey,” Yves says. “I’m sorry I fell asleep.”

“I’m not,” Haseul says, still half in a dream. Yves’ face is close, and Yves has a good face, so Haseul pulls it closer and kisses her softly before burrowing back down into her pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk y'all, this keeps getting longer. Hope you enjoy. Last part coming this weekend/next week.


	3. III

The trouble starts when Heejin bursts into Haseul’s room. It’s a common thing for her – coming in without knocking – and usually when Yves is there Haseul locks her door as a precaution. Today, though, they’ve been hanging out for a while, and when Yves got drinks from the vending machine Haseul forgot to lock the door after her. 

Heejin’s eyes go wide at the sight of Yves on Haseul’s futon, wearing Haseul’s high school sweatshirt. Haseul jerks her hand back from where it had been creeping up Yves’ thigh. 

“Hi Heejin.” Yves waves.

Heejin lights up in excitement, which is worrying. Where that looks goes, mischief follows.

“Two of my favorite seniors! Together! Here!”

“What do you need,” Haseul says.

“I honestly don’t remember, because this is way more interesting. What is this, by the way?”

“We’re watching Black Panther,” Yves says.

That makes Heejin light up in a less concerning way, fangirl mode activated. Haseul takes a second to appreciate Yves’ skill with evasive maneuvers, because her brain was still stuck on “what is this?” 

(They haven’t talked about it. It’s been over a month, and Haseul knows that they should. But Yves hasn’t started the conversation, and each time Haseul thinks about doing it fear weighs the words down so they stick in her throat. Talking would be breaking the pattern, and that could so easily break this whole thing.)

“Ooh, can I join?”

Haseul looks to Yves, who shrugs.

“Sure,” Haseul says. “We’re 20 minutes in though.”

“Oh I don’t care, I’ve seen it. I just want to watch the Busan chase scene again.”

Heejin plops down between Yves and Haseul, and Haseul spends the rest of the movie fighting down irritation at the intrusion. At one point Haseul looks over to see that Yves has drifted off, head tilted to the side and hair falling onto her face. Haseul wants to tuck it back; Yves gone soft with sleep is a rare, precious sight. 

Heejin is in the way, though, so Haseul just sighs.

“I know,” Heejin says. “This part is so sad.”

;;

No doubt thanks to Heejin, the gossip gets going. There has been whispering about Haseul and Yves since that first night at the club, but now it picks up velocity. Not once but four times, Haseul walks into a room to find Heejin and Chuu huddled together talking. 

At her appearance, they go suddenly, suspiciously quiet. Those two together are never quiet. 

Haseul ignores it for as long as she can, but on house game night everyone else pairs off in a way that’s clearly orchestrated, leaving her and Yves to be a team. 

“Hey,” Yves says. “Fancy seeing you here.” 

She smiles, but by now Haseul can read the discomfort in it. Haseul feels it too – this is weird, sitting together outside the confines of her room. Especially with ten people not-so-covertly watching their interactions. 

“Subtle, aren’t they,” Haseul says.

“We’ll just have to beat them all for meddling.”

“Sounds like a plan.” 

The plan lasts all of two rounds, at which point Yves and Haseul are toward the back of the pack in the weird space board game that they’re playing. (“Why are we sentient battleships? “Gowon picked this week, just go with it.”) It’s only downhill from there: Yves rolls the dice and lands them on a wormhole that sends their battleship back to start.

Yves pouts, her shoulders slumping. 

“It’s ok,” Haseul says. “The game just can’t handle our awesomeness.”

Yves doesn’t respond, looking down at her knee, and Haseul notices that her hand has made its way there. She didn’t mean to do that – didn’t know she had done it. It makes her realize how accustomed she’s become to touching Yves, and to doing it freely, without hesitation. Things are different tonight: out here in front of everyone, the smallest contact feels freighted with meaning. 

Haseul pats the knee awkwardly, takes her hand back.

Olivia and Choerry win the game. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be good at everything,” Olivia taunts Yves, who is still bristling at the defeat. 

“Stupid things don’t count. That game isn’t worth my energy.”

“I don’t know, you were losing pretty energetically over there.”

“Ok,” Haseul says, since it looks like Yves might launch herself across the room at one more comment. The two of them bickering is familiar territory, at least. “What are we playing next?”

Board games soon become drinking games. Haseul is still next to Yves, and as she finishes one drink and starts on a second she gets more and more fixated on the presence at her side. 

Yves is fidgeting with her thumbs. She does that when she’s thinking too much, working something over in her mind without resolution. Haseul wants to take her hand and smooth away the anxious motion.

Could she do that? Would it be claiming too much, in front of the girls like this? 

It doesn’t have to mean anything, Haseul tells herself. Haseul holds a lot of people’s hands. So does Yves. They’ve both held hands with every other person in the room, probably.

Haseul flexes her right hand, starts to move it. Stutters to a stop before it leaves her lap.

Why does this feel so hard. That hand has been inside Yves, for god’s sake. 

Then Yves goes tense beside her, and Haseul tunes back in to the game of Never Have I Ever they’ve been playing. It’s Yeojin’s turn and she’s smirking, which means she’s going to do her usual Haseul-targeted question:

“Never have I ever slept with someone in this room.”

Haseul and Vivi both drink, courtesy of their freshman year fling. Then, after a pause, Yves does too. 

Oh, right, Haseul thinks. That’s why she got tense.

There are gasps around the room.

“You!” Olivia points. “What did you do?” 

Yves looks at Haseul helplessly, and everyone draws the obvious conclusion. 

“I knew it!” Chuu shouts. “I knew that’s why you haven’t been coming back at night.” 

“Haven’t been coming back,” Lip repeats. “Is this a regular thing?” 

“Chuu, please shut up,” Yves says, sounding desperate.

“A couple times a week,” Chuu continues, as if no one spoke.

Choerry bounces in her seat.

“You guys will be so cute together! Congrats!”

‘We’re not dating,’ Haseul cuts in, because Yves already seems unhappy and Haseul doesn't want to put pressure on her. Yves looks – disappointed? hurt? Whatever flickers across her face isn’t good, and Haseul realizes a second too late that that was the exact wrong thing to do. 

“Yeah,” Yves says flatly. “We’re not, and we’re not going to be, so cancel the fucking celebration.”

She downs the rest of her drink in one gulp and stomps upstairs. Haseul gets up to follow her, but doubt stalls her at the stairwell. She and Yves aren’t together – that is now very clear – and Yves went up to her own room for a reason. 

Plus, Haseul isn’t sure she has the fortitude to tend to Yves tonight. Her own emotions are roiling; she hadn’t expected commitment, but what Yves said still stings. Is the thought of dating her really that terrible? 

Haseul retreats to her room. She lays in bed for a long time before falling asleep, staring at the ceiling and thinking about the girl two floors above her.

;;

Haseul lets things cool off for a few days before messaging Yves. 

_Come by tonight?_ she types.

_Can’t,_ she gets in reply. A minute later: _Too busy._

Haseul frowns at her phone, trying not to read into the bare-minimum response. The next week she asks again, gets shot down a second time with no explanation. Hurt burrows into her chest. 

She makes one last attempt, in person, when she sees Yves on the quad. Haseul calls out her name and there’s no way Yves doesn’t hear, but she walks right by with her eyes on the ground. 

When Haseul gets home, she can’t stand to be in her room. Yves is there in memories in every corner: her stupid smug grin when she comes up with a pun, the sounds she makes when Haseul touches her in just the right spot. The look she gets when she’s about to kiss Haseul like it means something. 

All of which is in the past now, it seems. 

Haseul knocks on Vivi’s door, asks if she can stay for a while.

“What happened?”

“Yves,” Haseul says, tears threatening. “She’s. She won’t.”

“Oh, sweetie.” Vivi wraps her in a hug. “Stay as long as you need.”

;;

Haseul takes to doing homework at a coffee shop instead of the kitchen table. 

She makes the move every semester around this time, as midterms give way to finals and the less academically inclined in the house remember that they need to find a way to pass their classes. The ensuing panic is funny, but not conducive to a great working environment.

This year, there’s the added incentive of avoiding Yves. Haseul has only seen her from a distance, and even that makes her chest go tight for hours. 

She’s claimed a table with a comfortable chair and a power outlet, so when she hears someone approach she’s prepared to guard it with her life. She looks up, mustering her best bitchface. 

“Hi,” Yves says. 

Haseul is not at all prepared to see her. She blinks, trying to sort through the mix of anger and relief and longing that results from Yves’ standing in front of her, starting a conversation. 

“What’s up?” Haseul manages, working to keep her voice even. 

“I know things are weird, but it’s been the worst day and I really need to charge my laptop and you’re by the table with the plug, I’m at 4% battery, please can we pretend we’re ok for this afternoon because I didn’t save this project and the deadline is midnight and I need one thing to go right or –”

“Whoa,” Haseul says. “Take a breath.”

She gets up, offering the plug and her seat. 

“Thank you.” Yves fumbles with her power cord, and Haseul notes how rough she looks. There are bags under her eyes and her skin is paler than usual, and she’s still beautiful, of course, but this is a frayed, worn-down kind of beauty. Haseul’s anger subsides, leaving a desire to take care of Yves. 

“Do you want a drink? Tea, maybe? It sounds like you don’t need more coffee.”

“Tea would be amazing.”

When Haseul gets back, Yves is settled and slightly less frantic. She sighs, closing her computer and taking the tea Haseul hands her. They’re both careful to avoid contact. 

Haseul sits down across from Yves, in the less comfortable of the table’s two seats.

“Everything is at least saved now,” Yves says, talking to herself as much as Haseul. “I’m so close to being done that I just want to send this, but my brain isn’t working anymore and I need to fix one last thing.”

“What are you working on?”

“I’m a research assistant for this lit professor and we’re trying to publish a paper, but he usually works with grad students and has zero understanding of what a reasonable workload is for someone who’s not getting a PhD.”

“That sounds rough. So, you were actually busy.”

Yves sips her tea, then puts her face in the steam rising off of it. It’s kind of cute, Haseul thinks, despite the situation. 

“I was,” Yves says. “But I was also mad.”

“At me?”

“At myself, mostly. For catching feelings for someone who just wants to sleep with me.” Haseul’s eyebrows shoot up. Did she hear that right? “Fuck, I didn’t mean to say that out loud. I lose my filter when I’m exhausted.”

“I see that,” Haseul says, still in shock. 

“Just because you gave me your outlet doesn’t mean you get to mock me.”

There’s no bite to the words – Yves sounds nervous, if anything. 

Haseul takes a long breath, in then out. If Yves is being honest, she might as well, too. Who knows how long it will be before Yves talks to her again. 

“I don’t just want to sleep with you.”

“You don’t have to say that to make me feel better.”

“I’m not,” Haseul says, irritation rising. “Why are you so sure that I don’t like you?”

Yves won’t meet her gaze. 

“Optimism gets people hurt. And you’ve never said what you want from me.” Haseul is about to protest, but Yves cuts her off. “No, really. Think about it. Even now, you just said what you don’t want. That’s not the same as committing to a positive.”

“Ok,” Haseul says. “That’s fair. But you’re no better – you’ve been avoiding me, and this is the first time you’ve said anything about wanting more than what we were doing. I’m still trying to process it.”

Yves rolls her eyes.

“Well can you process faster? Go ahead and reject me, I want to go home and not talk to anyone ever again.”

Yves is trying hard to be prickly, but Haseul can see through the cracks in it. It makes Haseul feel fond – she’s so unbearably fond of Yves, even the parts of her that are most difficult. Yves’ absence made that much clear. 

Maybe it’s time to tell her that. 

Haseul takes Yves’ hand, prying it off the mug. Waits until Yves looks up at her.

“You’re right that I’ve never said what I want. I was scared. But – and you should pay attention now, because here I am saying it – I like you. I want to be your girlfriend, and to tell everyone that we’re together. But you shouldn’t respond now, because you’re exhausted and I’m going to take you home and you’re going to take the nap that you desperately need. I’ll wake you up in an hour, and you can finish your project. And then you can give me an answer.” 

“Oh my god,” Yves says, clenching Haseul’s hand tight enough to bruise. “You can’t just say that and tell me not to respond.”

“Well, I did.”

Yves stands up enough to reach across the table and pull Haseul into a kiss. It’s brief and desperate, but it dissolves the tension in Haseul’s chest. She missed this so much.

“No more waiting,” Yves says, sitting back down, keeping her hold on Haseul’s hand. “We’re girlfriends, right now. I’m declaring it.”

“Noted,” Haseul says, but she’s grinning so hard that her face hurts. Yves is the same, and her wide, uncontrollable smile is the best prize that Haseul has ever won.

Then Yves yawns, breaking the moment.

“Maybe you were right about the nap.”

“Want to go home?”

“Will you sit with me? I don’t know if I could fall asleep right now if you’re not there.”

Haseul’s heart melts. 

“I think I like you without a filter.”

;;

The next morning, Haseul comes into the kitchen to find Chuu sitting on Yves at the table. Lip is there too, looking grumpy.

“Morning,” Haseul says, smiling at how some things always stay the same. 

Yves shoves Chuu off of her (there’s an indignant squeak, followed by Lip’s laughter) and comes over to backhug Haseul as she makes coffee. 

“Morning,” Yves says into Haseul’s ear. “I missed you.”

“It’s been 20 minutes,” Haseul says, because Yves woke up in her bed, and they've been together except for the time it took Haseul to shower. 

“It was a long 20 minutes. But, if you don’t appreciate my affection.” Yves starts to pull back. 

“No, wait,” Haseul says. “I like you there.”

When they sit down, Yves scoots their chairs close together, draping her arm around the back of Haseul’s. Haseul grins into her coffee, finding Yves’s hand and interlacing their fingers.

“You guys are gross,” Lip says.

“They’re cute!” Chuu argues, raising a tiny fist. 

So, ok, some things do change. Maybe Haseul likes them, too.

;;

Haseul and Yves are on the common room couch, both doing homework. Haseul loves that she gets to do this now – just be with Yves without thinking or worrying. Yves rearranges Haseul’s legs and lays her head on them, and the easy domesticity of it makes Haseul feel warm. It also reminds her of what started this whole thing.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” she says. “How did you get the kitchen so clean in one night?”

“Oh, that. I made Eden stay up all night cleaning in exchange for doing their housework the rest of the semester.”

“That is a terrible deal, Yves. Why would you do that?”

“I wanted to prove to you I was serious. When I said we’d be better.”

She’s blushing. It’s cute.

“Wow, you’re a loser.”

“No,” Yves says. “I just liked you. Still do.”

“That’s cheesy.” Yves shrugs, unrepentant. “How much longer do you have to do the dishes?” 

“A month.” 

Yves sounds mournful. Haseul laughs. 

“How about this. If you help me with essays, I’ll help you with the dishes.” 

“Really?” 

“Really.” 

“Oh my god, you’re my favorite.” 

Yves leans up and kisses Haseul exuberantly, knocking a binder and several books to the ground. 

“Look what you did,” Haseul says, smiling against Yves’ lips.

“Let me make it up to you,” Yves says, and there’s no more talking for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for this one - thanks for coming along on the ride. I had no idea what the response to this would be like, and I'm really grateful to everyone who read and commented. Hope the ending satisfies. Yveseul was fun to write, and I have no stable ships in loona but I might do this one again at some point, if y'all would keep reading. 
> 
> (Also, I've been out of fandom for a while. Is everyone on twitter now? Is that a thing I should be doing?)


	4. IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't expecting to write more of this, but the response was beyond anything I'd imagined and an idea struck, so. Have an epilogue at the fair. And thanks so much for reading and commenting. I'm bad at replying, but the comments on this have been incredibly kind - y'all make my day.

Traffic is terrible on the way to the fair. 

“That’s not a lane,” Yves grumbles as a car passes by on the highway shoulder. 

Haseul is in the passenger seat, with Gowon and Heejin in the back. Before Haseul-and-Yves, Haseul would always drive with her floor, Vivi sitting shotgun and Yeojin yelling for the aux cord from the backseat. 

Now there are new car configurations, and this one seems to work out ok. Haseul watches Gowon and Heejin through the rearview mirror, heads bent together laughing about something. They’re in the same year but have never been that close, and Haseul thinks maybe it’s a good thing, how she and Yves reshuffle everyone. 

Plus, Yves’ road rage is funny. 

“Learn to drive you fucking idiot,” Yves yells at an SUV cutting in front of them. She slams her hands against the wheel and then, remembering who’s in the car, she mutters a small “sorry.”

“You’ve gone so soft,” Gowon says. 

“I haven’t,” Yves protests. 

“Yeah, right. You’re driving us to the fair and you hate fairs.”

“You do?” Haseul turns to face Yves. This is new information. “You said you were happy to come.”

“And I am.” 

Yves braces her knee against the wheel, reaching a hand over to take Haseul’s. That’s probably dangerous, given the traffic. But, well. Haseul likes Yves’ hands. 

“Yeah, because Haseul is here,” Heejin cuts in. “You’re incredibly weak for her.” 

“I will leave you two on the side of the road,” Yves says.

“Haseul won’t let you.” 

“I don’t know,” Haseul says. “We’re only a couple miles away. You guys could use the exercise, and we could use the alone time.”

There are gasps of betrayal from the back seat.

“You’re supposed to protect us from Yves, not become her!”

“What can I say,” Yves gloats. “I’m influential.” 

;;

When they get to the fair, BBC convenes in a chaotic mass just outside the ticket counter. 

“How are we doing this,” someone says, and the whole group looks to Haseul.

She shakes her head, grabbing Yves by the arm and backing away. 

“Nope. I’m on a date with my girlfriend. Lip, all this is officially your problem. Bye!”

“Can she do that,” comes Jinsoul’s voice as they make their escape. 

;;

Once they’re through the gate, Haseul takes in the grounds.

There’s a row of vendors selling t-shirts and hats, and beyond that the fair gets going in earnest: game booths, food stalls, and, above all, the rides. Haseul looks up at the biggest one, a wicked three-loop rollercoaster whose metal supports gleam against the sky. 

She bounces on her toes, too excited to keep still. She’s the mature one most of the time – someone has to keep the girls from hurting themselves or each other – but the fair gives her license to let loose a little. 

Yves is looking around too, her face closer to dread than excitement. 

“Do you really not like fairs?” Haseul says. “You could’ve told me, you know.”

Yves shrugs.

“I don’t hate them with the fire of a thousand suns, or anything. It’s just not my scene.”

“But the rides!” Haseul starts pulling her toward the rollercoaster, hoping to have a first go before the line gets too long. She doesn’t get far: Yves is harder to pull than usual, and when Haseul looks back her jaw is set in a grim line. “Is everything ok?”

“Of course. But, um. Can we save that one for later? I want to look around first.”

Haseul nods – Yves must like to build up to the most exciting stuff. That’s not Haseul’s usual fair strategy, but she can get behind it. 

They do a loop of the grounds, and at the petting zoo Haseul gets a spectacular picture of Yves with a baby sheep. Yves kneels down to get on its level, and right as Haseul takes the picture the sheep licks Yves’ nose. Her face is immortalized in the transition between perfect on-camera smile and why-is-this-happening-to-me. 

Haseul sets the picture as her lock screen, ignoring Yves’ protests about how this will ruin her image.

“Is your image more important than my happiness?” 

“You’re lucky I like you,” Yves says, but she stops complaining. 

;;

It’s a warm day and the sun is out, so after walking around for a while they get in line for lemonade. It’s slow to move, and as the minutes stretch out Haseul sighs with boredom. Lines are her least favorite part of the fair. 

Yves wraps an arm around her shoulders. Haseul leans into her, smiling at the welcome distraction. Dating Yves involves a lot of casual touch, and three months in it still feels like a minor miracle, getting to be with her like this out in the world.

It’s great, but it can also cause problems. Because Yves is hot, and she likes teasing, and there’s a fine line between comfortable, public-friendly touch and the kind that makes Haseul want to do things. 

Right now, for instance: Yves starts fiddling with the collar on Haseul’s shirt. She finds Haseul’s collarbone and trails her finger quickly, lightly along its ridge. 

Haseul’s breath catches. That’s one of her spots, and Yves knows it. 

“What are you doing,” Haseul says.

Yves’ finger keeps moving, up and down. Her touch gets slower, more purposeful, though it’s still frustratingly light. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” 

Yves is good at a lot of things; playing innocent isn’t one of them. Her smile is too wide, and too knowing. 

Her hand detours up to tuck some hair behind Haseul’s ear, traces down her neck to again set up camp on her collarbone. The skin is sensitive now, sensitized, and this time Yves’ touch hits twice as hard. 

Haseul shivers. She should tell Yves to stop. But she’s stubborn, and she knows that if this is turning her on Yves is right there with her. The fun thing about being with Yves is that no one keeps the upper hand for long, and Yves looks so smug right now that Haseul has to try to steal it away.

She glances around – no one is paying attention. Ahead of them in line is a family of six, parents busy herding the children as they try to escape. Behind them is a couple having a quiet, intense argument about what counts as cheating. 

Haseul turns into Yves, wrapping her arms low around Yves’ waist. She arches her back, making sure Yves can feel her, then leans up to kiss Yves’ jaw. Uses her teeth and then her tongue. 

Yves makes a noise, but she tries to act unaffected. So Haseul slides her hands into Yves’ back pockets, presses Yves into her thigh until she shudders. 

“Do you give,” Haseul says.

“Do you,” Yves shoots back. She does something with her hips and suddenly there’s pressure between Haseul’s legs, and Haseul bites her lip hard because if she starts kissing Yves she’s not going to stop. 

She thinks about finding a bathroom to drag Yves into, getting on her knees before Yves and getting her off with Yves’ fingers desperate in her hair.

But they're starting to get looks, and there’s only one group left in line in front of them.

“Truce,” Haseul says, because she would never live down a public indecency arrest. 

She pays for two lemonades and gulps at hers, needing something else to focus on. 

“How about a ride now?” 

Yves doesn’t reply, too busy staring hazily at Haseul’s mouth. 

“Yves.” Haseul waves a hand in front of her face. “Rides?”

“Oh, right.” Yves swallows. “Sure, whatever you want.”

This time Yves lets herself be led – Haseul’s pretty sure Yves would follow her anywhere right now – and soon they’re on a pendulum ride, swinging back and forth through the air. Haseul relishes in the feeling of weightlessness, her body freed from the ground and soaring through open space. 

“That was fun,” she says to Yves when it’s over. “But I wish it went higher.”

“Higher?”

Yves’ voice is strangled, and there’s an odd grayish tone to her skin. Her whole body looks tense, actually, now that Haseul is paying attention.

Haseul narrows her eyes.

“What’s wrong with you?” 

“Nothing.”

“Yves, really. Are you ok?”

“I’m fantastic,” Yves says through gritted teeth.

She’s clearly not, and suddenly Haseul remembers: Yves gets motion sickness. She mentioned it once, in a conversation about boats, but Haseul hadn’t made the connection to fair rides before this minute. 

Haseul feels bad, and she thinks about suggesting they do something else. But Yves is terrible at admitting weakness, even with something as trivial as this. She’ll keep going with denials even when she’s not fooling anyone. 

It can get annoying. Haseul gets annoyed.

Yves could’ve avoided this whole thing by just talking to her, so instead of giving Yves an out, she says: 

“Great. Then let’s do a real ride.”

They get on the big rollercoaster, and as it inches toward the first drop Haseul has some regrets about the decision. Yves looks terrible, eyes squeezed shut and body hunched in on itself like she’s bracing for an attack. 

By the end of the ride Yves is white tinged with green, and as soon as the attendant lets them off she’s sprinting to a trash can to throw up emphatically. Haseul follows her, pulling back her hair and running a soothing hand over her back.

“Why didn’t you say rides make you sick?” Haseul says when Yves has gotten it all out.

“I wanted today to be fun for you. And I took a lot of Dramamine, so I thought it might be ok.”

“I don’t need rides to have fun.”

Yves pulls herself up enough look at Haseul, raising a disbelieving eyebrow. 

“But the rides,” she says, throwing Haseul’s words back at her.

“Fine,” Haseul admits. “I do like them. But we could’ve walked around and played games and eaten fried food. I would’ve had just as much fun, and you wouldn’t be miserable.”

Yves’ shoulders slump.

“I’m sorry. That was stupid.”

“It’s ok. I just want you to know you can tell me things.”

“I do,” Yves says. “I trust you.”

She looks up at Haseul with a hesitant smile, and though she’s still draped over a trash can it’s somehow a nice moment anyway. 

“Good,” Haseul says. “Now, how about I win you a stuffed animal?”

“Why can’t I be the one winning for you?”

It comes out small and whiny, and Haseul fights down the urge to pat Yves on the head. 

Can you see yourself right now, she doesn’t say, because having a girlfriend is 50% knowing what to keep to yourself. 

“I’ve been working on my ball toss,” Haseul says instead. “Let’s get you some water, and then I’ll show you how good I’ve gotten.”

;;

Two hours later Yves has a stuffed panda under her arm and her skin has lost all traces of green. She’s smiling and giggly, like a kid on a sugar high, and Haseul takes a moment to memorize this version of Yves, adding it to her collection. 

“Is there anything else you wanted to do?” Haseul says.

“Well, there is one ride I like.”

“You’re not trying to play tough again, are you?”

“No, for real this time.” She points at the Ferris wheel. “I like the view, and it moves slow enough that I’m ok.”

The Ferris wheel is, naturally, the one ride Haseul never goes on. It’s slow and boring, and she’s never been the best with heights. Yves is smiling so bright, though, that she figures she can make an exception this time. 

She keeps thinking that right until the wheel stops with them at the very top. Yves is caught up in the city unfolding beneath them, so Haseul has nothing to do but sit there and think about how far from the ground they are. How many different things one could break on the way down.

Her throat goes dry, heart picking up its pace. 

“Hey Yves,” she says, trying to sound calmer than she feels. “I should maybe have mentioned I don’t like heights.”

To Yves’ credit, she doesn’t laugh. She looks like she wants to, though. 

“Remember when you said we should learn from each other’s mistakes, not repeat them?”

“When did I say that?”

“Well, you might not have. But doesn’t it sound like something you'd say?”

“That’s not helping.”

Yves puts a hand over Haseul’s, which is squeezing the safety bar for dear life.

“What would help?”

“Anything that takes my mind off the fact that we could fall eight stories to our death right now.”

“Anything?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Yves!”

Haseul is two thirds of the way to a panic attack, and Yves must realize it because she gets serious.

“Ok,” Yves says. “I love you.”

“What,” Haseul stutters. Neither she nor Yves have said those words before, so though she forgets about the height her heart starts racing for a different reason.

“I love you,” Yves repeats, sincerity radiating out of her. “I’ve known for a while, but I was waiting for the right time to say it.”

“And you chose now?!”

“Yeah. Seemed right.”

“Oh my god, I hate you sometimes.”

“That’s fair. But, you know what? We’re on the ground now.”

Haseul looks past Yves and sees that things are back to full size instead of the terrifying ant-scale they had been at the top. Before she has a chance to say anything, the attendant is pulling up the bar and ushering them out. 

They run into Chuu, Jinsoul, and Hyunjin at the exit, and Haseul loses her chance to respond. Yves doesn’t seem to mind, though, squeezing her hand with a whispered “later.”

;;

When they get back to the house, Yves runs to claim the bathroom. When she comes back, she pulls Haseul into a minty kiss. 

"I couldn’t kiss you all day," Yves says. "That’s a lot to make up for.”

“Thanks for not subjecting me to your vomit breath.”

Yves groans.

“Haseul, I’m trying to set a mood here.”

“Ok, sorry.” Haseul reconnects their lips, twining her arms around Yves' neck. “Is this better?”

“Much.”

“By the way. I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> twt: @leaderline97


End file.
